Origami
by Orchid Butterflies
Summary: There weren't many things that truly annoyed Demyx. The random teenager he saw sitting in the park everyday was one of those things. Zemyx, AU -- 'Speak' Universe, oneshot


**A/N: **... Don't kill me? I swear, the new chapter of _Spectacular_ is coming out soon (it's on its final draft!!) but this was just SCREAMING at me to be written. And I couldn't refuse. Also, it's a little different than my usual style. So... enjoy? I hope it makes up for my uber procrastination.

Oh, quick side note: This is set in the same world as _Speak_.

**Edit:** Added more to the ending.

But OMG. Twelve reviews, nineteen faves, and 381 hits -- AND RISING! I could get hit in the head with a flying cabbage right now and be perfectly alright with it. Thank you!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these two, nor the other random characters that appear, but I do own the plot. Other than that, I'm just borrowing, and I can guarantee their safe return. But I cannot say the same for their sanity.

**Dedication:** To Sora-Taylor over on devART who read this while I was writing it and thought it was awesome. Also to my betas and the people I worship. Always them.

* * *

There weren't many things that downright annoyed Demyx.

It annoyed him that his mother was almost never home.

It annoyed him that his best friend was moving away.

It annoyed him how long his walk to school was.

But what _really _annoyed him was someone he saw in the park. Everyday, he was there, sitting in the same spot, at the same picnic table, doing the same exact thing. Every. Day.

Demyx would walk by that park at least twice a day, on the way to school, on the way home, and whenever he was with Axel. Often times, he found himself wondering who the hell in their right mind would sit in that spot every single day in the middle of spring and endlessly fold those small squares of paper into various shapes over and over and over again.

But, now that he thought about it, that was what else _really _annoyed him. The guy wouldn't make different things. He would always – _always_ – make cranes. When Demyx would pass him in the morning, there would be two or three cranes scattered on the table, but when the blonde was walking home, the table would be filled with sixty or seventy cranes.

Every. Single. Day.

So, one day, he decided to ask the teenager.

As Demyx approached, he noticed that the boy had a strange hair colour. It was kind of a slate colour, with hints of lavender. This shouldn't have bothered Demyx in the least, seeing as one of his friends had vibrant pink hair, but something about it plucked his nerves, and he just couldn't figure it out.

When the blonde finally addressed him, the slate-haired teen slowly looked up, his hands ceasing their motions. Violet eyes met blue, and almost immediately, all the annoyance Demyx had felt towards the teen dissipated. His hair colour suddenly didn't seem important, the fact that the boy was sitting there everyday was all but forgotten, and Demyx found he could only stare into those carefully blank eyes. He finally composed himself after a minute and asked the question that had been irking him for weeks: "Why do you always make the same thing?"

A long moment of silence stretched between them before the teen answered.

"To forget."

He began slowly folding the brightly coloured square of paper, thus ending the conversation. Demyx slid onto the bench across from the teen, pulling some books out of his bag.

"You don't mind if I sit here, right?" he asked, retrieving a pencil. The teen shook his head.

Demyx went back the next day, after school had let out. He sat in the same spot he had the previous day, working on his homework in silence, the slate-haired teen slowly folding his paper cranes. Every now and then, the blonde would ask his companion a question about something related to his homework, in which the teen would answer to the best of his ability. When he was done, he put his books back in his bag and pulled out sheets of music.

"Why don't you go to school?" he questioned idly, tapping his pencil against the table. The teen shrugged.

"Not allowed." he responded, setting aside a finished crane and picking up another piece of paper. Demyx stared blankly at the teen for a moment.

"Why not?" the blonde asked, setting down his pencil. The teen shook his head.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

On the third day, Demyx realized he had never asked the name of his new acquaintance, nor had he introduced himself.

"My name's Demyx." he announced as he joined the teen at their picnic table. The boy glanced up at Demyx before returning his attention to the crane.

"Zexion," came the reply. The blonde was silent a moment, musing over the name, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Zexion."

Demyx went back the next day, and the next day, a Saturday. The temperature had decided to drop considerably, and the blonde was shivering inside his two jackets. He never was one for the cold, anyway. He fleetingly wished that Axel was nearby. The guy was _always_ warm. He even seemed to radiate an aura of warmth. But as Demyx approached the picnic table, he discovered that Zexion was dressed a lot lighter than him. The teen's hands were shaking, but the blonde could tell that he was trying to hide it, especially when Demyx sat down opposite of him.

"Aren't you cold, Zexion?" he inquired, looking at the teen questioningly. Zexion quickly shook his head.

"No, not really," he said, but Demyx just stared at the teen's shaking hands. They impaired Zexion's actions, greatly, as he was still working on his second crane. A few silent minutes passed as the blonde watched Zexion's frigid actions. Slowly, the blonde unzipped one of his jackets, shrugging out of it. The teen watched in mild fascination as Demyx held the garment out to him.

"… I can't take that…" he muttered, staring into those blue eyes, setting aside his half-finished crane. The blonde shook his head, keeping the jacket held out.

"Yes you can," Demyx smiled when Zexion hesitantly reached out and took the jacket.

"… Thank you…" he said, staring at the blonde a moment longer before returning to his blue crane, putting the finishing touches on it before holding it out to Demyx. The blonde shook his head, declining the gift offer, but Zexion reached out and took Demyx's hand, putting the crane in it.

"Just take it." he said, the barest trace of a smile on his pale face. Demyx stared at the crane a moment before smiling.

"Thanks."

When Demyx went back the next day, Zexion was nowhere to be found. He wasn't there the next day, either.

"Ugh, where is he…?" Demyx mused aloud on the third day Zexion hadn't shown up, spying their picnic table as Axel and him walked past the park. The redhead chuckled, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"He'll be back, Dem," he said, offering his blonde friend a reassuring smile. "Stop worrying 'bout it so much." Demyx looked up at Axel, watched him light the cigarette, pursing his lips before smiling in return.

"You're right," he decided, hopping a few steps forward and turning to face Axel. "He'll be back."

And the next day, Zexion _was_ back. But he was without paper, and no cranes littered the table. Demyx thought it looked a little barren without the multi-coloured squares of paper, but didn't say anything. The teen was sitting on the picnic table, feet dangling off the side, violet eyes staring blankly off into space.

"Hey. What's up?" the blonde asked, hoisting himself up onto the table beside Zexion. The teen shrugged.

"… Nothing…" came his soft response. Demyx looked at Zexion, anxiety swirling around in those cerulean eyes.

"Are… are you okay?" the blonde questioned softly, leaning forward a little so he could get a better look at Zexion's face. The teen nodded hesitantly.

"Yeah. I-I'm fine," he said, giving the blonde a small, forced smile. "Don't worry about me." Demyx didn't believe him.

"You don't _look_ fine…"

"Trust me. I'm fine."

Demyx eyed the slate-haired teen warily.

"Where have you been?" he asked, changing the subject. Zexion shook his head.

"At home. Sick." he replied. Demyx smiled.

"But you're better now." he said. The other teen nodded.

"Yeah.

"Where's your origami paper?" the blonde asked. An unrecognizable emotion clouded Zexion's face, and the teen looked at the ground.

"My dad… took it," Zexion responded. Demyx could easily detect the hints of sadness laced into his voice.

The blonde returned the next day with a packet of origami paper in hand.

"… Demyx… I… I can't accept this." Zexion tried handing the packet back to Demyx, but the blonde wouldn't have it. He shoved the paper into the teen's pale hands, smiling at Zexion.

"Yes you can. Take it. In return, you can make me a crane." Zexion was silent for a moment, staring down at the assorted paper, then began slowly nodding.

"… Thank you."

The blonde showed up the next day, expecting to see his new friend. He was greatly surprised – and very disappointed – that the one that greeted him was not Zexion, but instead, an older man with silver hair and haunting yellow eyes. Demyx eyed him warily, cautiously approaching the stranger, who, in fact, seemed to be waiting for the blonde.

"Hello, Demyx," the silver-haired man greeted, holding out a hand to Demyx. "My name is Xehanort." The blonde slowly reached forward and took the stranger's hand, shaking it, nodding.

"It's, uh... nice to meet you, Mr. Xehanort," Demyx said, suspicion in his voice. The older man smiled, but Demyx couldn't help but feel there was a certain malice behind it.

"You are my son – Zexion's – new friend, correct?" he asked, garnering an overenthusiastic nod from the blonde. Shifting uncomfortably, Demyx glanced around the park before looking once more at Xehanort, noticing the expensive-looking business suit he wore.

"Where is he? I haven't seen him in a couple of days." Demyx commented, refusing to meet those eerie golden eyes. Xehanort's smile twisted into something cold and cruel.

"He is at home, resting. He was not feeling well today." The blonde was not satisfied with his vague answer.

"What did you do to him?" he asked. Xehanort rolled his eyes, locking his gaze with Demyx.

"He is merely sick. I did not touch him," he responded after a moment. Demyx narrowed his eyes into a searing glare.

"Will he be back tomorrow?" the blonde questioned, earning a sharp laugh from the older man.

"Actually, no. Which is, in truth, the reason I sought you out," Xehanort said, his wicked smile widening; an extreme sense of dread fueled Demyx's suspicions. "I would like you to stay away from my son from now on."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I just can't do that," Demyx replied immediately, adjusting his bookbag, watching as Xehanort pulled a smooth black wallet from his pocket, producing a few twenty dollar bills.

"Here is some money to repay you for your kindness and generosity – for the origami paper and the jacket," he offered, holding the money out to Demyx. The blonde shook his head, though, refusing the money.

"I apologize again, Mr. Xehanort, but no amount of money you offer me would make me abandon Zexion."

"Ah, but you see, young man, you will find you have no choice in the matter," Xehanort stated, matter-of-factly, putting away the rejected money and pocketing his wallet. Demyx bit his bottom lip, cerulean orbs abruptly meeting with the older man's eyes of his own volition.

"You're wrong," the blonde declared, taking a step back. "I do have a choice."

Zexion was not there the next day, either.

"I'm telling you, Axe, that guy was a _creep_." The redhead chuckled, watching his hyperactive best friend bounce around angrily as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

"So," he began, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. "Just who is this 'Zexion' you're always going on about?" Demyx glanced at his best friend before looking up at the sky.

"I already told you who he is. He's the gu–" The blonde was was interrupted when Axel blew a long stream of smoke into his face.

"Not what I mean, dipshit," the redhead said, flicking ashes off the end of his cigarette. "Who is Zexion to _you_?" The blonde stopped moving and stared at Axel for a long moment.

"He's… well, he's… a friend. A friend… that offers me company when you're not around and Mom's not home."

"And…?" Axel prompted, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. Demyx inhaled deeply, thinking it over a minute.

"Zexion is… He is… someone I think I like more… than I should…" The redhead smirked, dropping the butt of his cigarette and stubbing it out with the heel of his shoe.

"That's what I thought. So. How are you going to do it?"

"Do… what?" the blonde asked. Axel snorted, rolling his eyes, a devilish smirk appearing on his face.

"Save loverboy from the evil clutches of psycho-daddy, duh," he responded, a certain gleam shining in his emerald eyes. Demyx sighed and shook his head.

"I gotta find proof that 'psycho-daddy' is really as psycho as we think." Axel thought about this a second before something in the distance caught his attention.

"What is it…?" the blond questioned, staring at his best friend as if he'd grown two heads. The redhead glanced back at Demyx before gesturing to a person leaning against a building across the street from their spot on the steps of Axel's apartment building.

"Isn't that him?" Demyx finally noticed what Axel was referring to, spotting Zexion's unique hair colour. Without a word, the blonde darted across the street, a car narrowly avoiding him as he sprinted towards his friend. A surprised yelp tore from Zexion's throat when Demyx ran up, unannounced, and threw his arms around the other boy's neck.

"Zexion! Where've you been?! I missed you!" the blonde excitedly exclaimed, pulling away from the slate-haired teen. His face fell, though, when he saw the saddened – almost pained – expression Zexion wore.

"Demyx, just… please, go away."

"You don't look so good, Zexion… Uhm… Are you okay?" the blonde questioned, ignoring his friend's request and keeping his hands on the teen's shoulders. Zexion was silent a moment before responding with a hesitant nod.

"Don't worry about me… I'm fine."

"Your dad came to see me." Demyx felt Zexion tense, watched at the boy's violet eyes went almost impossibly wide.

"He… Demyx! Why didn't you listen?!"

"Zexion… is everything okay? He didn't threaten me or anything…" The blonde looked at his friend in confusion, unable to envision just why Zexion was reacting like he was.

"What did he tell you?!" the slate-haired teen near demanded, taking a step towards the blonde.

"… He told me to stay away from you." Demyx answered truthfully, pursing his lips for moment, averting his gaze.

"Then you shouldn't be here!!"

"Hey, kid, calm down, okay? Dem really missed you," Axel cut in, making his presence known. Zexion looked at the redhead, then back at Demyx. The blonde was finally able to recognize the expression his friend wore.

He was absolutely terrified.

Demyx could feel Zexion's thin frame shaking beneath his hands. Violet eyes darted around wildly before settling on the blonde's face once more.

"You… You don't understand! You just don't _kno_--"

"Is something wrong here, boys?" The silver-haired man Demyx had met the previous day – Xehanort, was it? – wandered towards the three boys, wicked smile once more adorning his tanned face. Zexion fervently shook his head, jumping away from the blonde. Demyx would not be deterred though as he quickly closed the newly formed gap, pulling the slate-haired teen into a tight embrace.

"Can you meet me later?" Demyx asked, lips ghosting over Zexion's ear, voice so quiet, the teen struggled to hear it.

"Demyx… I ca–"

"Please?" the blonde nearly pleaded, glancing at Axel when Zexion failed to respond immediately. The redhead just pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit another one, keeping his emerald eyes on the ominous older man.

"… Okay…" Demyx smiled and tightened the embrace before letting Zexion go. Xehanort gave one last look at Demyx and Axel, sneering viciously before pushing Zexion forward and walking away. Axel rolled his eyes and absently flicked some ashes off his cigarette.

"You were right, Dem. Guy's a fuckin' creep."

Demyx waited all night in that empty park – their park. Zexion never showed up. The blonde never gave up though. Every free moment he had, Demyx would hang out on the picnic table him and Zexion always sat at, writing music, waiting, hoping, praying that his friend would appear as usual, with his multi-coloured origami paper and his comforting silence.

Five agonizingly slow weeks passed, but the blonde never once thought of giving up. And he was glad he didn't, because even though it was a long wait filled with pure anxiety on Demyx's part, Zexion did show up. And he looked worse than he had the last time Demyx had seen him. There were heavy bags under his beautiful violet eyes; his slate-coloured hair hung limply in his face, appearing as if it hadn't been washed in at least a week; every step he took seemed to pain him greatly. Demyx pursed his lips, waiting for his friend to make his way to the table.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Demyx nearly demanded, hopping off the table and gathering his friend into his thin arms. Zexion hesitated a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around the blonde's waist and relaxing against him. A moment passed before the slate-haired teen softly responded.

"… I've been… sick…"

"Zexion. I know you were not sick," the blonde did not hesitate in pointing out, pulling away from the embrace and leading Zexion towards their picnic table, letting him sit down on the bench before returning to the spot he had previously occupied. The slate-haired teen opted to stay silent, shaking his head in response.

"… Are you okay?" Demyx asked after a bit. His friend sat still, anxiously biting his lip, eyes darting wildly around the park before he turned and looked up at the blonde.

"… No…" he finally answered, his voice barely above a whisper. Demyx blinked, genuinely surprised that Zexion admitted that something was not right. He had honestly expected his friend to lie once more.

"… What's wrong?" he asked, but Zexion shook his head.

"Nothing. Everything. Anything." Zexion closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, toying with the hem of his shirt. After a moment, he stood, facing Demyx before pulling the torn up t-shirt over his head.

There was a moment of silence. Zexion stared at the ground while Demyx stared at Zexion's stomach.

"… Holy shi–"

"Please, you can't tell anyone!" the slate-haired teen interrupted, pleading. Demyx shook his head, jumping off the table once more and cautiously approaching the teen. Zexion didn't move, barely even breathed, when the blonde slowly ran his fingers over the darkened skin.

Zexion's stomach was littered with deep purple bruises and bright red gashes.

"… But we've got to tell someone," the blonde urged, gently taking his friend's arm and maneuvering him around so he could take a look at his back. To his horror, he discovered it was the same – if not worse – as his stomach.

"Please… you can't… I can handle this…" Zexion argued, facing Demyx once more. The blonde sighed and placed his hands on Zexion's shoulders, careful not to touch the various bruises.

"Zexion… you're covered in bruises," he pointed out.

"I'm fine, really!"

"But what if he does worse, huh? What if he kills you?"

"He won't… He just… He can't!"

"Zexion… We've gotta call the police. Please." Their noses brushed, breaths intermingling. Zexion slowly shook his head, pursing his lips.

"… No." Demyx sighed, closing his eyes and pressing a soft kiss to his friend's forehead.

"You're impossible," he said softly, pulling Zexion into another tight embrace. And the teen didn't pull away.

They met the same way the next night. And the next night. And the night after that.

Demyx inevitably missed three days of school that week due to lack of sleep.

"Hey, Dem, where've you been?" Axel questioned, lighting another cigarette as Demyx and him walked down the sidewalk. The blonde shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Eh. You know. Sleeping," he offered, meandering towards the park him and Zexion met in everyday.

"Been meeting that Zexion guy?" Axel blew a stream of smoke in Demyx's face, causing the blonde to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"His dad is seriously fucked up in the head," Demyx stated, blue eyes sliding upwards to look at the heavily clouded sky. "I think it's going to snow."

"It's the middle of spring. Anything could happen."

"That's true, I guess." The pair continued along in silence for a few minutes, Axel casually finishing his cigarette and tossing it into the road, watching as some car came along and ran over it.

"You meeting him again tonight?" the redhead finally asked. Demyx nodded, returning his gaze to the ground in front of him.

"Yeah… I've been trying to convince him to go to the police." he said softly, glancing back at Axel.

"… Is it really that bad?" the redhead asked, reaching for another cigarette, but suddenly decided against it, hand dropping limply to his side. The blonde nodded slowly, following Axel's movements.

"What's up?" he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. Axel shrugged, blowing a loose strand of hair from his face.

"Trying to quit."

"But you ju–"

"Don't even say it, Dem," Axel interrupted, rolling his eyes. "I'm starting by cutting down. Don't want the people in the other school thinking I'm too much of a freak."

"Oh, but Axel, dear, you _are _a freak. Look at that wild red hair! And those _tattoos_! Honestly, I doubt smoking will make them think you're any stranger!" the blonde teased, laughing when Axel attempted to hit the back of his head. The redhead glared at Demyx a moment before sighing heavily.

"How is Zexion, anyway? What does psycho-daddy do to him?" Axel asked, emerald eyes unable to focus on one thing. Demyx sighed, closing his eyes.

"You should have seen it, Axel," he said, half-noticing that they had stopped walking. "His back, his stomach, his arms… they were… covered… It was… _sickening._" The blonde shuddered, frantically shaking his head in an attempt to clear the memory.

"Well, shit. If it's that bad, why hasn't he gone to the police himself?" Demyx sighed again and shrugged, unable to come up with a logical response.

"He said he doesn't want to get his old man arrested. Even though the bastard beats him, Zexion still seems to love him."

"Damn. I will probably never understand just _how._" Axel rolled his eyes and went to pull out another cigarette, but caught himself.

"It's a psychology thing," Demyx said. "It's pretty messed up."

"Didn't know you were into psychology, Dem."

"I'm not. I learned that from Zexion. He's pretty damn smart for someone that doesn't go to school." The blonde sighed heavily for the third time. "He really needs to get away from that man."

"You gonna do something?"

"… No. There's nothing I _can _do."

"Mm, I don't think that's true. I think you can do more than you realize." Axel smirked, trying again for another cigarette only to have Demyx shove a stick of gum in his face.

"Try gum instead."

"Thanks."

Zexion didn't show up that night. Demyx instantly knew something was wrong.

"Axel, he's not here. He said would be, but he's NOT!!" Demyx nearly screamed into his cell phone.

"This happened before, right? Calm down, he'll show up eventually," Axel responded. The blonde could hear him light up another cigarette.

"But he's sneaking past his dad!"

"How else did you expect him to get out? He's okay. He'll show up."

"… What happened to cutting down?" the blonde asked in a desperate attempt to ward off his anxiety. He could hear the redhead's soft laughter on the other end of the line.

"This is my first one since I talked to you earlier."

"Somehow, I don't believe that. You're gonna ge–"

"Lung cancer at the age of twenty, right?" Axel finished. Demyx could practically _hear _the smirk on Axel's face.

"Exactly. Now quit."

"When I'm ready. Which I'm not. Gotta take it slow, right?"

"Oh just quit already! I thought you didn't want to look like _mo– _I'll call you back later." Demyx snapped the phone shut and hastily shoved it in his pocket before turning his attention to his staggering friend. Zexion looked… horrible. His head was bowed, his arms were crossed, and Demyx could see how badly the teen was shaking back at the picnic table. A long moment passed as the blonde waited and watched in horror as the slate-haired teen stumbled and sunk to his knees, hands slamming hard against the ground. Demyx panicked and rushed to his friend's side, sliding a little as he dropped down beside him.

"Zexion? Zexion, what's wrong? Please, tell me," Demyx begged, his hand brushing over Zexion's arm. The teen shook his head, burying his face in his hands. The blonde pursed his lips and waited a moment before batting Zexion's hands away and brushing the hair out of his eyes.

There were bruises all over the left side of his face, complete with a giant gash that ran from his nose clear down to his jaw. It was scabbed over for the most part, but blood still trickled from small points that had yet to heal. Demyx gathered him into his arm, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Zexion, you _have _to go to a hospital," The blonde reached for his phone, but was stopped when a shaky hand grasped his wrist.

"Please… don't…" his voice cracked mid-sentence. Demyx broke free of the teen's hold and pulled out his cell phone.

"Zexy… I can't let you get hurt anymore… I'm sorry." Zexion lunged for the phone, but missed, crying out in pain when Demyx grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Demyx, I'm serious," the slate-haired teen pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears.

"You're covered in bruises and I don't even _want _to know where you got those cuts," the blonde tried to reason, dialing the number. Zexion fell silent.

"They'll be here in about twenty minutes," Demyx announced after a few minutes of silence had passed, in which the blonde had made a frantic call to the police. Zexion pursed his lips and looked down, whispering something that Demyx had to strain to hear.

"Thank you… And… I'm… sorry."

"Sor–"

He was cut off when Zexion leaned forward and pressed his lips hard against the blonde's. Demyx tensed for a moment, blue eyes wide with shock. But he was even more surprised when he found himself returning the kiss wholeheartedly.

"You find Zexion, then?" Demyx could hear Axel smoking _again_, but decided to ignore it for now.

"Yeah… We're at the hospital…" the blonde replied, fishing some money from his pocket and approaching a vending machine.

"Want me to come down?" Axel asked, moving around. The jingling of keys could be heard in the background.

"… No… It's fine. He'll be fine. I'll be fine. We'll all be… fine." Demyx deposited the change into the machine, punching in some numbers, idly watching the small bag of chips drop from the shelf. He was shaking, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"You sure? You don't sound so good, Dem." Axel truly sounded concerned, but Demyx didn't want the redhead to travel all the way to the hospital only to have him sit there for hours, then leave. It was a waste of time on Axel's part and completely selfish on Demyx's.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just… talk to me," the blonde requested, taking his snack and flopping down into one of the chairs. He was exhausted and nervous, and the hospital setting wasn't helping any.

"… If you're sure. So…"

Demyx listened to the redhead prattle on about what his new town was supposed to be like for two straight hours before a nurse came in and announced softly that the blonde needed to get off the phone.

"You're Demyx, correct?" the blonde nurse asked in a soft voice, continuing when she saw the slight nod from him. "The police are here and would like to ask Zexion some questions, but he refuses to talk unless you're present." Demyx pursed his lips, then nodded, shoving his cell phone in his pocket as he stood and followed the girl.

When he entered, Zexion was pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the proof of his abuse to a kind-looking, brown-haired doctor, and a gruff police officer. Demyx cleared his throat, approaching his friend carefully. Zexion glanced at the blonde before returning his attention to the brunette nurse who was poking and prodding various cuts and bruises.

"Can you tell me where you got these bruises, young man?" the officer questioned, pulling out a pen and a notepad. Zexion nodded slowly, but didn't speak right away. Demyx reached forward and laced their fingers together, offering a kind smile to the slate-haired teen. Zexion took a shaky breath.

"My… f-father… did this to me." The officer nodded and scribbled it down, the doctor smiling kindly as she applied some ointment to a rather nasty looking cut on Zexion's stomach.

"Could you be a little more specific…?" the officer requested as kindly as his rough voice would allow. One reassuring look from Demyx was all Zexion needed; he told the officer everything.

"So, 'Operation: Save Loverboy' is a success?"

"Yeah. Officer Lexaeus expects there to be a major court battle, but until a decision has been reached there, Zexy's stayin' with me." Demyx glanced at the slate-haired teen sitting on his bed and smiled. Zexion was back to folding paper cranes, to add to his _senbazuru_, otherwise known as a chain of 1000 cranes. It was supposed to bring them luck, and luck was something that Zexion would definitely need in the upcoming months.

"Well, that's good. As long as he's safe, I s'pose. And you'll at least have some company now after I leave!" Axel could be heard lighting up yet another cigarette.

"So much for quitting," Demyx laughed, nodding when Zexion motioned for him to get off the phone. "I gotta go, though, Axe. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, yeah. See ya."

"So, Zexy, just how many paper cranes did you make?" the blonde questioned after he had snapped his phone shut and tossed it carelessly on his desk. Zexion thought about the question a moment before responding.

"I've made… two _senbazuru_. This will be my third." Demyx did the math in his head and was shocked at the sheer amount of paper cranes that added up to be.

"Holy crap." He commented, blue eyes locking with violet, silence reigning supreme in the small bedroom.

"… Uhm… Do you want to learn how to make a paper crane?" the slate-haired teen muttered after a moment of silence. The blonde smiled and leaned forward, brushing his lips against the other's.

"That would be… nice."

* * *

GJKADGHADJL It's done! This took me a week and a half to type up.

If you made it this far, please leave me your opinion on this. I would really like to know.


End file.
